The Last House Crashes Down
by LadySlytherinII
Summary: In the Enchanted Forest, everybody has a soulmark on their wrist with a single word or phrase, providing a clue as to the identity of their True Love. Sometimes the clues are vague, but they're always right. In which Red is in denial, Belle's soulmark doesn't mean what she thinks it does, and sometimes the road to True Love requires understanding who you really are.


**Author Notes: I wrote this for the first day of Red Beauty Week, for the Soulmates Theme. Red Beauty Week runs from September 13-19 and the themes can be found at redbeauty week . tumblr .com**

 _The last house crashes down:_  
 _the wolf is on fire,_  
 _my right hand is on fire,_  
 _the wolf is gone._  
-Margaret Atwood, "The Puppet of the Wolf"

Red poured the drink down her throat in one long gulp and smiled at the boy behind the bar. Pretended she didn't feel like she was dying. Pretending she didn't hope she would die soon. It was getting easier, the more she did it.

The boy took the bait. "I've seen you in here before, haven't I?"

"Probably," she said, looking at him through her eyelashes. "I moved here with my Granny a few weeks ago." They'd made the decision together, but it had been because of Red. In the end, it had been too hard for her to stay in the forest. Every twig looked like a gnawed apart bone, every shadow like the wolf that at times Red felt she could barely suppress. Town was crowded and the streets smelled like piss, but it was also full of distractions. She didn't spend every waking minute remembering.

And the tavern was definitely a plus.

"No parents?" the boy asked, pouring her another drink.

"Not anymore." As she reached for the glass, Red noticed the boy glancing at her wrist. The word there was safely covered with a leather wristband, but she still tugged her sleeve over it.

"Trying to ignore fate?" he asked.

"I don't believe in fate," Red snapped back at him.

The boy nodded. "I get that. You can see mine, if you want," he said, turning up his wrist so that she could see the word Goldilocks. "Would have been nice if they could have given me a bit more detail, but I guess that's not how it works, is it?"

"Guess not," Red said shortly. She lifted her drink to her lips, taking this one more slowly than the first.

"Too bad your hair's brown, you seem like an interesting person. So, can I see yours?"

"No." Red did not like the direction this was going. She tried to project this in her voice.

"Oh." The boy was silent for a while after that, which was just the way Red liked them. When she'd almost reached the bottom of the glass, he spoke again. "That's a nice cape, but isn't it a bit hot for that?" He reached out a finger to touch the fabric.

Red didn't even bother with a response. Barely taking time to think, she slammed her glass back down on the counter and stood to leave, moving so quickly that she didn't see the girl until she knocked into her.

"Oh, shit, sorry!" she said.

"It's all right," the girl said from where she had fallen in a heap on the floor. She held out her hand, looking amused. "Give a girl a hand?"

"Of course." Red reached out and grabbed the offered hand, which was surprisingly warm and soft. She pulled the girl to her feet.

"I'm Belle,"

"Red." All of a sudden, she was self-conscious of the fact that they were still holding hands. She let go an brushed her hair from her face.

They looked at each other for a minute before Red realized that she needed to say something. But as she was about to open her mouth, Belle said, "Would you—um, would you happen to know of any place I can stay in this town? I've just arrived, and—"

"Hey," Red interrupted gently. She took in Belle's appearance; she looked tired and dirty, as though she'd been travelling a long ways. "I get it. Are you hungry?"

"Very."

Red put a hand on Belle's shoulder and led her to a table. "I'll buy you some food and help you figure something out. I'd invite you to come stay with me and Granny, but we only have two rooms and you probably want your own space."

"That's really sweet, but you don't have to—"

"I want to help." Red didn't realize that the words were true until they were halfway out of her mouth. When was the last time she'd wanted anything besides to forget? "Do you have any money?"

Belle looked down. "No."

"Running away from something?"

"I guess you could say that."

Red wanted to say something comforting, but what was there to say? She was running too, but it was different. She was running from herself and her own actions, and Belle was running from—well, something else. "I'm sorry," was all she was left with.

Belle shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. "I think I'll be okay here for a while."

"It's a nice town," Red offered. "People are friendly."

"So what about you?" Belle asked. "What's your story?"

Red tried to smile. "Nothing special. Small-town girl who spends her time in taverns."

Belle lifted her hand to her face, revealing a large scar on her wrist. On closer inspection, Red realized that the soulmark on Belle's wrist had been scratched at, as though someone had tried their best to tear it off with their bare hands. Noticing Red's glance, Belle pulled up her sleeve to show the words better. "You can look, if you want." She extended her arm.

"The Beast," Red said, reaching out to touch without even thinking. Belle flinched, but didn't move her arm. "Did he do this to you?"

"I did it to myself. I didn't want them anymore." Belle pulled her arm back.

Red thought to her own wrist, the word she hadn't looked at in months. She hadn't wanted them either, had considered it a betrayal to Peter that she'd somehow managed to get a second chance. She looked at her nails and thought about the claws she refused to let them become anymore, wondered what would happen if she used them to tear at her own wrist. "Why?" she finally asked.

"He didn't love me back. Or not enough, at any rate."

Red felt a strange sense of awe towards this girl, who was so willing to tell her whole story to a stranger in a tavern. Who would hurt someone like that? "Do you mind if I ask who it was?"

Belle hesitated. "Rumplestiltskin," she said finally.

"The Dark One?" Red's eyebrows shot up.

"I was a maid in his castle."

"And you think he was your True Love?"

"I know he was," Belle said. "I just wasn't his."

Red frowned. "I thought that wasn't possible. Isn't that the point of True Love, that is has to be both ways?"

Belle faltered a little bit. "Our circumstances were a bit different than the usual love story, I'm not sure I can really explain. It was— have you ever loved someone who you knew would destroy themself?"

"Never." _I was always the destructive one._

"It was the most painful thing I could have imagined. I loved him, and all he loved was power. I couldn't stay and watch him destroy his life—and countless others—that way. In another life, I think I would have been his True Love too, but he wasn't human enough to love anymore."

"But you're sure it was him."

"I loved him, and he was a beast." Belle smiled sadly. "There's not really anybody else who fits that description."

"At least you got a soulmark that makes sense," Red said quietly. _It doesn't matter,_ she scolded herself. _You didn't want to fall in love again, remember?_

Belle's smile was sympathetic. "You're stuck with a vague one, then?"

"Something like that." _Time to deflect._ Red gave a winning smile and said, "So, you need a job, right? What do you like to do?"

"Read," Belle said. She looked confused at the abrupt change in topic, but didn't comment. "Only I don't suppose there are many jobs like that here."

Red shook her head. "Unfortunately options are pretty much limited to working in the market or being a maid. Which, it sounds like you at least have experience with."

Belle shook her head quickly. "That's not something I'd want to go back to."

"Okay. Well, let's think. You wouldn't be able to start a farm on your own, but I suppose you could find work in somebody else's. A lot of people have farms just outside town."

"You're looking for work?" the boy from behind the bar asked. Red gave him an annoyed glance. She should have heard him approach, but she'd been far too focused on the girl across from her. "We're short staffed right now. If you need a place to stay tonight I could have you working right now."

Belle looked hesitant. "Would you mind terribly?" she asked Red. "I don't mean to leave in the middle of a conversation, it's just—I really _could_ use a place to stay."

"Don't worry about it," Red said. "I'll be fine."

Her plans to get as drunk as possible had already fallen by the wayside, and she didn't want to see the disapproving way Belle might look at her if she resumed them, so Red made her way out the door, back to her grandmother's cottage.

* * *

"Oi, bring me another ale, wouldja love?" asked the loud, brash man at the table near the front. Belle hurried behind the bar to fill the order. She'd only planned to work at the tavern for a few nights before making her way somewhere else, but the pay was good and room and board were free. It was getting harder to justify leaving now that she regularly had enough to eat, which was how she found herself still there a week later, wiping tables as though her life depended on it.

"What's taking you so long, then?" the man yelled. Belle quickly finished with the drink and set it in front of him. As she turned to leave, she felt a pair of fingers pinch her bottom.

 _That disgusting…_ Belle turned to respond, then thought better. The man looked like a hunter, and with three ales already in his stomach, this had the potential to get ugly. She was about to walk away when someone else spoke.

"Don't you ever let me see you do that again." It was the girl from the other day ( _Red, Belle's brain supplied,_ ) stabbing the man in the chest with a sharp fingernail. She made a threatening image, which was surprising considering how small she was compared to the man.

"What's it to you?" he demanded, turning red around the ears.

"If you ever touch a girl without her permission again, I'll cut your hands off," Red said, giving him one more solid poke.

Belle had lived with the Dark One long enough to know what a genuine threat sounded like. Clearly this man did as well, as he quickly turned to his ale and focused on drinking it as though nothing else in the world mattered.

"Thank you," she said, turning to her rescuer. Somehow, this did not seem like the same girl Belle had spoken to just days before. The look in her eyes was so fierce that Belle felt as though she couldn't look directly at them. Instead, she busied herself with taking the order of the couple at the next table.

Red followed her as she went behind the bar. Her demeanor suddenly shifted, and she was the friendly, withdrawn woman she'd been before. "So, I take it you've settled on a job, then."

"I suppose," Belle said. She worked to fill the drink orders. "Thank you, by the way. For the advice. And the food. Oh! I have money now if you need me to pay you back."

"It's fine, it was Granny's money anyway."

"What does she do?" Belle asked politely.

"She's a hunter. Well, and a trapper. We eat the meat, and she makes a bundle off the furs. All the men in town are wicked jealous." Red leaned casually against the counter. "So, do you get any breaks at this job of yours?" Red asked, leaning casually against the counter.

A strange jittery sensation arose in Belle's stomach. "As a matter of fact, I _am_ due for a break. I was planning to go outside once I've delivered these drinks. Would you, um, would you like to join me? "

"Absolutely," Red said, falling into step next to Belle. After handing the drinks to the couple the left the tavern. The front door exited out onto the main street, which was crowded with people, but Belle led Red around the side of the building. There was nothing particularly nice about the alley, but it was where Belle always went during breaks to get away from the crowds.

"It's not much," Belle said, leaning tiredly against a wall. "But at least it's quiet."

"You must not get a lot of that working in the tavern," Red said. She leaned against the opposite wall, which belonged to an apothecary. The alley was so narrow that they were only a few feet apart, and Belle found that she had to look up to see into Red's eyes.

"No, I don't. Do you work?"

Red shook her head. "Not right now. I help Granny in the garden sometimes, but that's about it."

"What about your parents?"

"Don't have any."

Belle reached out took Red's hand for a second, wanting to offer comfort. "My mother's dead too."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Belle said, with the awkward realization that she had made this about her. She dropped Red's hand.

As they continued to talk, Belle couldn't help but notice the way Red deflected questions about herself, or how her eyes sometimes looked oddly empty even when she was smiling. Belle kept thinking, too, about the band on Red's wrist and how eager she was to avoid talking about it.

And she understood, really she did. After all, hadn't her own love story gone down a much darker path than she had hoped? But that didn't mean Belle had given up on love. Maybe it wasn't in the cards for her, but she knew that underneath the bracelet, Red had a word on her wrist. That had to mean Red had a chance.

"What are you thinking about?" Red asked.

Belle realized that she had been silent for too long. "Just how much I'd rather keep talking to you than go back to work."

Red gave her a genuine smile. "I'll walk you back in. If I'm lucky maybe I can get someone to buy me a drink."

"Maybe," Belle said. She tried to imagine a man coming up to Red and making this offer. In her mind, the man was Red's True Love, the spitting image of whatever word was on her wrist. But try as she might, she couldn't picture the man. All she could see was Red's face, with a smile that was no longer tinged with pain.

* * *

Seeing Belle slowly became part of Red's regular routine. She would come down during Belle's breaks, or Belle would come over to have a real dinner with Red and Granny as a break from the tavern food. They tended to spend Belle's days off together as well, which was how she had happened to come along today, in search of mushrooms Granny had sent them to search for. She'd sent a picnic basket along with them, which told Red she'd cared more about the excursion than the mushrooms. Granny had been encouraging this friendship in any way she could, seeming to think it was good for Red.

And maybe she was right. Red still thought about Peter every day, but something in her chest seemed looser now. The nightmares where she saw herself gnawing on his bones had retreated, although not entirely gone away.

Leaves crunched under foot as they rambled through the woods. They'd been walking for over an hour now, comfortable being silent with each other. Somewhere along the line they'd started holding hands, but it was such a natural gesture that Red couldn't quite say when it had happened.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Belle said after a while.

Red looked around. The sunlight was streaming into the forest, leaving glow around the trees, illuminating the gashes from a recent windstorm. Then she looked at Belle, at the way the light reflected off her brown hair and made it almost red. "It is," she agreed. There _was_ a sort of beauty to the woods, one that she'd barely noticed these last few months.

 _Beauty._

Red looked down at her wrist as stealthily as she could to make sure that the cuff was in place. They walked further into the woods.

It was early afternoon when they finally found the mushrooms Granny had been hoping for. There had been a false start an hour previous, but the mushroom had turned out to be a deadly imitation. Red had a lot of experience searching for food, but it had been Belle that had noticed that the spores weren't aligned correctly. Apparently, books had more uses than just telling a good story.

Once they had located the true mushrooms and picked as many as they could carry back, they sat down to their picnic lunch. They sat in next to each other silence for most of it, the companionable sort of silence that felt more intimate than words ever could. Eventually, Belle spoke.

"I should really thank you," she said. "For everything you've done for me."

"You don't have to thank me," Red replied. "You've done a lot for me, too."

"I just mean—I've never really had a friend before. Not a close one, anyway. What I'm trying to say is, I consider myself lucky to have met you."

Red could feel herself light up as she turned her head to smile back at Belle. "I feel the same way." Their eyes met, and Red could fell her heart start to speed up. Then Belle leaned in, and her heart felt as though it had stopped entirely. She hadn't kissed anyone since Peter, hadn't wanted to, but Belle's lips looked like the most tempting thing in the world. _Belle_ was the most tempting thing in the world.

She closed the distance between them. Their lips touched and Red let her mouth open the smallest bit as they kissed. Her thumbs reached out to stroke along the inside of Belle's wrists, where the deep scratches had faded almost to nothing. Belle's hands were in her hair, and Red sighed with delight.

She pulled away to leave lingering kisses on Belle's cheeks, her neck. Her fingers twined into Belle's thick hair as she pressed herself closer. _Beauty._ The thought that had been been begging for attention all day surfaced. Of course that was what the word on her wrist meant, of course it was supposed to be Belle. If she was honest with herself, she'd known all along.

But if Belle was her Beauty, that meant—

Red pulled back abruptly and stood up. Belle nearly toppled over from the loss of contact.

"I should go. It's getting late," Red said quickly.

Belle looked confused, then worried. "I'm sorry, I thought—I swear, I didn't mean to—misread you at all—"

"Stop," Red said, closing her eyes against the tears that were threatening to emerge. _Belle shouldn't be the one apologizing, I kiss her first._ "You didn't misread. I just—I can't, is all."

"Is it because of—whoever you've got under there?" Belle asked, indicating at Red's wristband.

"No," Red lied. Taking a few calming breaths, she sat back down. She knew she had to give Belle something. It wouldn't be fair not to explain at all, when Belle had never withheld anything from her. "It's… because of Peter."

Belle waited.

"He was my True Love," Red explained. She stroked her wristband unconsciously. "When he died, the mark faded, like it was supposed to, but after a while I got a new one."

Belle breathed in sharply. "That's really rare, isn't it? I've only ever read about that happening. You're lucky."

"Yeah, lucky." Red laughed harshly. "Except I didn't want it. I still don't. That's why I have the wristband. It's stupid, but I thought if I ignored it, it would go away."

"But you can't make it go away, can you? Whoever your soulmate is, they're out there in the world. You can't change that."

"You can ignore it," Red insisted. Her pulse began to speed up. _I'm not a beast,_ she told herself. _I'm wrong, this is wrong._

 _I don't even have a True Love._

 _Nobody's allowed near me but me._

"Maybe," Belle said thoughtfully. "I suppose that's what I had to do, in the end. But I don't think you can hide under a rock and hope for it to go away. Sooner or later, you have to deal with it, don't you?"

"Granny will be wanting those mushrooms," Red said, standing once more and clearing away the picnic blanket. She packed everything away as briskly as she could, and she and Belle set off back through the woods.

This time, they didn't hold hands.

* * *

For the next few days, Red stayed away from the tavern. During that time, Belle couldn't manage to keep herself from obsessing over what she could have done different. She shouldn't have pushed so much, not when she knew full well that Red was a private person. And that kiss… what if it had all been a mistake? Red had seemed to want it, but she clearly wasn't ready.

When she wasn't obsessing over her own mistakes, Belle was wondering what exactly Red had written on her wrist. When they'd kissed, she had thought for one wild moment that Red's soulmark might refer to her, but afterwards she'd realized the absurdity of that thought. Soulmarks were supposed to match, and Belle knew that her own could not be referring to Red. Whoever it was who's word was on Red's wrist was out there somewhere, but it couldn't be her.

It was a long couple of days before Red finally came into the tavern.

When she saw her, Belle just stared a for a moment, too shocked to say anything. Finally, she managed a polite, "Do you want something to drink? I'm afraid my next break isn't for another hour. You can wait, if you like." She almost flinched at her own tone, which was far too stiff and detached. _I'm sorry,_ she thought. _I'm not any good at this._

Red looked down. "I'm not here to stay, I just—I have to go out of town for the next few days, starting tomorrow. I was hoping we could talk, sometime after you get off work."

"Of course," Belle said quickly. "I'd love to talk."

"Good. I'll stop by at the end of your shift, then." She left the tavern with as little ceremony as she had entered with.

Time seemed to drag on after that. It didn't help that the tavern was unusually full today, or that one of the hunting parties included the man Red had threatened for harassing Belle all those weeks ago. Luckily, other than a few stares, he left her entirely alone. Still, by the time she hung up her apron, Belle felt as though she must have served hundreds of people. Nothing sounded quite so appealing as a warm bath, but she knew there wouldn't be time before Red came by for her.

Belle went down the hallway towards her room, thinking that at least she would have time to change. She had almost reached the stairs when a voice behind her made her jump. "I thought this might be where the staff lived. It's nice. Bit cramped, but nice."

Belle wheeled around and found herself face to face with the man who had harassed her a few weeks previous. "Excuse me?" she managed to ask.

"But I suppose your sleeping quarters must be somewhere else, I haven't seen any rooms this way yet."

"W-what do you want?" Belle stepped backward up the stairs as she spoke, gripping the handrails so tightly it hurt. She kept her eyes trained on the man, unwilling to let him move without her seeing.

He just grinned and followed her. "That where you sleep, then? Up there?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Belle said shakily. Her breath was coming out in sharp pants as she struggled to remain calm. "Please just go." She wondered what would happen if she screamed, but the tavern had been so full that the whole staff was working, and it was so _loud_ out there. Would anyone even hear her?

"Oh, but it was just starting to get fun. Besides, I don't see your friend with the pointy nails anywhere."

He took another step forward. Belle took another step back. She glanced behind her, hoping to see another person, but there was no on in sight. Her next thought was to make a break for it and hope she could lock her door in time, but the man was so close, and he was a hunter; he was used to outrunning prey. The only thing she could think to do was to walk backwards, one step at a time. If the man didn't know where she was going, she might be able to get close enough to her room without him knowing. Then, she could run and have a fighting chance.

"You scared of me?" he asked, laughter in his eyes.

"Yes," Belle said. "I want you to leave." Her whole body shook, but she kept her voice firm as she reached the top of the flight of stairs. Only a few more steps backward, and she'd be at the door of her room.

"Oh, but I couldn't leave without giving you a little kiss," the man said said. He made a move to grab her by the waist. Adrenaline coursed through Belle's system, and suddenly she could see clearly through her fear. She twisted out of the man's grasped and shoved him as hard as she could. For a moment, he teetered at the edge of the steps, but then he lost his balance and toppled down the stairs.

Belle cast about for a weapon in case he came back up, and coming up with long piece of metal pipe. She went to the edge of the stairs and looked down warily, scared of what she might see.

At first, Belle thought she had killed him, but after a moment, the man got to his feet. He spat blood on the ground, then limped out of the building. Distantly, Belle wondered how hard she had pushed him to cause that kind of injury. When she finally stopped hearing his steps, it felt as though all of the strength had left her body. She fell to the floor and wept.

* * *

Red leaned against the wall and tapped her foot impatiently. She knew that Belle must be off work by now, after ten minutes of waiting, she had yet to appear. Worse, Wolfstime started tomorrow, and Red had hoped they'd be able to talk through the awkwardness before she had to leave. _I didn't think she was the type to be late like this,_ Red though. Maybe she'd screwed up worse than she thought, and Belle wasn't coming at all.

 _I can't just stand here waiting,_ Red decided. The tavern was closing any minute, but she could still get in now. She'd never been to Belle's room, but she had some idea where the staff lived. If she slipped through the back she'd be able to get there.

It turned out to be easier than expected. The boy with _Goldilocks_ written on his wrist was behind the bar. When she told him she was looking for Belle he just winked pointed through a door to the back.

"Thanks," she said, giving him her most dazzling smile.

"Any time," he replied.

The door opened out into a long hallway. The moment she closed the door and blocked out the noise of the tavern, Red knew something was wrong. Someone was crying. To her hypersensitive ears, the sound was practically deafening. She followed the sound up the staircase and found Belle, sitting against a wall with her arms wrapped around her legs.

 _Oh, shit,_ Red thought, running towards her. "Belle?"

Belle's head shot up. She began talking quickly. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, I forgot we'd said—"

"Hey, it's okay," Red said. She reached out her hand and pulled Belle to her feet. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," Belle said, wiping away a few tears. Her eyes were swollen, as though she had been crying for a long time.

Red threw her arms around her and held her tightly. "What happened to you?"

"It was that man—from the pub the other day, do you remember?" Belle's voice sounded far away, but that may have been the pounding that had started in Red's ears. Her stomach dropped.

"Did that bastard do something to you?" she demanded. She let go of Belle but didn't step away. _If he hurt her…_

"He—he tried to kiss me. I didn't know what to do, so I just _pushed_ him, and he fell down the stairs and I guess he must have decided it wasn't worth it, because he left."

Red looked closely at Belle, searching her face for signs she might be omitting details. "Did he hurt you?" she asked, careful to keep her voice gentle.

Belle took some time to think. "No—but I think he was going to."

"Do you think he'll try to come back tonight?" Red asked. She pushed back a strand of Belle's hair.

"I don't know for sure, but I think so. What do I do?" Belle asked, tears returning to her eyes.

Red made up on mind in an instant. "Stay with me and Granny," she said. "We'll have to share my room tonight, but after that I'll be out of town for a few days and you can have it to yourself."

Belle nodded shakily. "What if he's still around when you get back?"

"He won't be," Red promised. Somehow, she would find a way to stop that from happening.

By the time they made it to the cottage, Belle was no longer crying. Red explained the situation to Granny, who immediately insisted that Belle stay with them.

"If any man comes _here_ and tries to touch you, he'll be getting an up-close and personal view of my crossbow," she assured Belle. "I don't hold with that sort of thing one bit."

"Thank you," Belle said. "I'd like to freshen up, if that's okay."

"Take your time," Granny said. When Belle was out of earshot, she turned to Red and said, "I'm glad that two of you found each other. It was about time you found something to make you happy." Her eyes flicked to Red's covered wrist.

Red didn't know how to reply, so she just nodded and returned to their room.

Belle hadn't brought anything with her in her rush to leave the tavern, so Red loaned her a nightgown. It was comically large on her, trailing down past her feet.

"So, I know this wasn't quite how you expected this evening to go," Belle said as they got ready for bed. "But if you still wanted to speak with me, we could talk now."

"Not tonight," Red said tiredly. "I don't think either of us is up for it, right now. We can talk tomorrow before I go."

"Where should I sleep?" Belle asked, casting a nervous glance at the bed.

Red immediately felt guilty. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor." She was used to it, used to long nights spent on a hard floor, huddled beneath her cloak and praying to anyone who might be listening that the magic didn't stop working during the night."

Belle shook her head. "Don't be silly. It's your house, you should have the bed."

Red was about to argue, then found herself laughing instead.

Belle laughed too, seeming to understand at once. "I supposed after everything both of us have been through, we can survive sharing a bed for one night."

They settled in. Red always had trouble sleeping this close to Wolfstime, but tonight was worse than usual. _This can't mean anything,_ she scolded herself. _Not with what's on her wrist,_. But when Belle's arm snaked around her waist partway through the night, Red let herself lean into it. She wondered if this meant that Belle was also awake, or if she'd done it in her sleep. She wondered if it mattered.

She wondered if this was what she could have had with Peter, if she'd been something different than what she was.

It was a long night, with very little sleep.

* * *

Belle awoke the next morning's sunrise, feeling better rested than she had in a long time. She stayed in a bed a little longer, watching Red's chest rise and fall, then pulled herself up and padded across the room to get dressed. After a moment of considering her options, she sighed and put on the previous day's clothing. Red was too much taller than her for borrowing to be an option, even if the nightgown _had_ worked okay.

The smell of frying bacon drew her out into the main room, where Granny was cooking breakfast.

"You're up early," Granny said without turning around. "I suppose we should have a little chat before my granddaughter wakes up."

Belle sat down at the table. "What about?" she asked, a jittery feeling emerging in her stomach at the woman's words.

"Red. I'm gonna be straight-forward with you, I think you're doing her a lot of good. But there's things you should know."

"Not to be disrespectful," Belle began, "But I'm not sure that Red would be too happy knowing that I learned all of her secrets from her grandmother."

"I agree. That's why I won't be telling you any of her secrets. What I _am_ going to tell you that she needs to be pushed. She sees herself as fragile, with everything that's happened to her, but she's stronger than she thinks she is. I need you to make her remember that."

This was not what Belle had expected. "How?" she asked, remembering what had happened the last time she'd pushed Red, the silence between them that had last for days.

"You can start by not letting her off the hook too easily. I don't supposed she's bothered to tell you where she's going today?"

"No," she hasn't.

"Ask her. And if you can, try to get her to tell you what happened with Peter. It'll be good for her to talk about it."

"He died, didn't he?" Belle asked, wanting to prove that she knew _something_ about Red's life. For some reason, it felt very important that Red's grandmother approved of her.

"So you _have_ managed to get something out of her, then. Good. That means she trusts you."

"I trust her, too." Belle realized as she said this how surprising it was; trust wasn't something she was used to feeling. Of course she'd trusted her parents at one point, in the way that all children trust their parents, but somewhere along the line that had gone away. And Rumplestiltskin—well, he'd never given her any reason to trust him. She frowned as she thought about how strange that was. She'd thought that True Love, of all things, would require some increment of trust.

"One more thing," Granny said. She slid the bacon onto a plate and placed it in front of Belle. "Would you mind letting me look at your wrist?"

Belle almost refused, but something in the woman's voice convinced her not to. Slowly, she slid up her sleeve awaited judgment. What would Granny think of the faint scars covering the words? She felt the sudden need to explain herself. "I tried to get rid of it. He wasn't what I thought he was," she said, pulling her arm away.

Granny looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe there's a reason for that."

Before Belle could ask her to explain, Granny had moved on to practical things, like asking how long Belle intended on staying, and whether she'd like her pick up her things at the tavern. Then, before she knew it, Red had come into the room in search of breakfast. For some reason, the idea of continuing the conversation in front of her friend seemed inconceivable. Instead, she watched Granny and Red's bickering with a smile on her face.

Oddly enough, it felt like coming home.

* * *

After Red had finished breakfast, Belle drew her aside. "Yesterday, you said you wanted to talk to me about something. Do you still want to?"

Red nodded. "I think that'd be good. Only—not here, okay? Granny has crazy good hearing." Her stomach was doing strange little flips every time she looked at Belle. She tried to ignore it.

"I know a good grassy spot just outside of town," Belle said. "We could get there and back pretty quickly. I know you have to go somewhere today."

They told Granny where they were going and set off. At first, neither spoke, but as the silence went on Red began to feel more and more frantic. She knew she had to say something to avoid being trapped in her own thoughts, so she asked the first question that came to mind. "What are you going to do about work?"

"I talked to your grandmother this morning," Belle said. "She said she'd go explain the situation for me and pick up my things. I'll probably lose my job over it, but I didn't like serving people much anyway. Now I can decide what I want to do."

"That's good. Any idea what you might want to do?" The noises of the town seemed dimmer than usual. Red had grown used to the cacophony, the side effect of hearing too well, but today it didn't bother her the way it usually did this close to Wolfstime.

"No," Belle said. She laughed a bit. "Any chance you'd let me stick around until I figure it out?"

"Of course," Red said, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. "You can stay as long as you need to."

At last, they arrived at Belle's spot. Red could see at once why she liked it. It was on top of a small hill overlooking the forest in one direction and the town in the other. The two images should have seemed incongruent with each other, but somehow they were united.

They sat.

"So," Belle said. "What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Red hesitated. "I just thought we should talk about what happened last week. I don't want you to think that I—that I regret what happened, or that I'm mad at you or anything like that. I just don't want things to be weird between us anymore."

Belle nodded slowly. "Thank you. I have to admit, I was a bit worried when you stopped coming by the tavern."

"I just needed time to think."

"Red—if you don't mind me asking, what _does_ it say on your wrist?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Red asked, suddenly panicked. Had Belle figured it out? Did she know the thing that Red was refusing to even think about, for fear it might be true?

"Humor me," Belle said cheerfully.

"It doesn't matter. It's so vague it could mean anything."

"But what does it say?" Belle pressed.

"Beauty." Quickly changing the subject, Red asked, "Is there anything you want to say to me? About what happened, I mean. I just thought if you did want to say something, you should get the chance to so that we can actually clear the air instead of me just thinking the air's cleared when really—"

"Red," Belle said. "You're babbling."

"Sorry."

"No, It's okay. And I understand, about the other day." Belle's voice was soft. "Just because I've given up on my True Love, doesn't mean you shouldn't get a chance to find yours."

Red swallowed hard.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?" Belle continued

"Like what?"

"Well, I thought maybe you wanted to tell me where you're going tonight," Belle said. "Since you're going out of town so suddenly and all."

Red's throat tightened. She should have been prepared for this, should have known Belle would ask and planned an excuse, but she had nothing. "That's none of your business."

"I know," Belle said. "But it seems like there's something going on that's hurting you."

"So what?" The words were out before Red could even think to deny it. Angrily, she tore a clump of grass out of the ground.

"Maybe I can help," Belle answered. She took Red's hand. "Maybe whatever it is, you don't have to go through it alone."

Red yanked her hand away, more severely than she'd intended to. "You can't."

Belle looked down. "I thought we were friends."

This was the last straw. Why was she pushing this? "Are you trying to _manipulate_ me into telling you?" Red got to her feet " You wanna know so bad? Fine, I'll tell you." As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back, but Belle was now waiting expectantly. Red forced herself to breathe. If Belle wanted the truth so badly, she could freaking have it. "I'm a werewolf. Every full moon, for several days, I transform into a hideous monster. I'm _dangerous_. Oh, and Peter, my True Love? I ate him."

Belle looked at her without comprehension for a moment. "You… ate him?"

"Down to the bones." It felt good to tell. Now Belle would know what kind of a monster she was, and she would leave. Red wouldn't have to deal with walks in the woods and soft lips and all the things she knew that she didn't deserve. She flopped back down on the ground and waited for Belle to run.

 _If I don't love her, I don't have to be the Beast._

But instead of running, Belle did something Red hadn't been expecting: she asked a question. "Can you—can you control it?"

Red snorted. "I black out. Can't remember a thing."

"Have you tried to?" Belle's voice was far too soft, too kind. It wasn't fair.

"I don't need to," Red replied stubbornly. "My cape is magic. It keeps me from changing. Going away from people is just a precaution."

"Magic," Belle said in a soft voice. "What was the price?"

"What?"

Belle laughed a bit, then drew herself to her feet and seemed to be imitating someone. "Don't you know, Dearie? Magic always comes with a price!"

Red laughed. Belle dropped back to the ground and joined her. "It sounds scarier when he does it," she said ruefully.

"The Dark One?" Red guessed.

"Yeah."

"Do you think that's always true?" Red asked, once her laughter had subsided. "That magic has a price."

Belle seemed to think about this. "I don't know. Sometimes it just seemed like something he was saying so that people would pay him. But other times—he lost his son because of magic, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"I don't know how, exactly. But I know it was because of magic."

"So what are you saying, that if I keep using my cloak something bad will happen?" _It's already happened,_ Red told herself. _I've already lost Peter, nothing else bad is going to happen._

 _I promise._

Belle hesitated. "I don't really know. I don't think it's quite that direct. It's more like—well, maybe by relying on the magic, you don't open yourself up to other options. And if the magic fails or acts unexpectedly, which happens more often than it should, you don't know what the consequences will be."

Red moved away from Belle, suddenly wanting as much distance between them as possible. "Oh, I know the consequences. And if I stop relying on the cloak all that means is they'll come a bit sooner."

"Red…"

"No!" She jumped to her feet. "You don't know what it's like to look down at a pile of bones and not know who it is, only that _you caused it?_ To have to be told by your only friend that that—nothing—that you're seeing, is all that's left of your boyfriend?"

"Oh, Red," Belle said. She stood and put her arms around Red, and it shouldn't have calmed her down, shouldn't have felt right, but it did.

"What do I do?" Red asked, realizing once the words were out of her mouth that this was a role reversal of the previous night.

Belle gently released her and stopped to think about it. "Where do you stay? When you transform?"

"In a cabin in the woods."

"How far away from other humans is it?"

The direct questions helped to calm Red down even more. "It's a three hour ride. Granny takes me. But the wolf could do it in about forty minutes."

"So you _could_ try it safely, then," Belle said. "If you took off the cloak for the last twenty minutes before sunrise, you'd have a chance to try to control it without putting others in danger."

"I guess."

"You should try," Belle said. "But not because you're worried about magic having a price. You should try because maybe if you can control it it won't scare you so much."

Red hated that she knew Belle was right, hated that Belle knew her so well. "I'll think about it."

"Please do." Belle took her hands and squeezed them comfortingly. Red ignored the way this small gesture sent tingles all up and down her spine.

 _If I love her, that makes me the Beast._

* * *

Red thought about what Belle had said for the entire ride into the woods. Granny didn't comment one her silence, though she must have noticed it. When they arrived at the cabin. Granny took the reins of her horse and led it away. It was still several hours until nightfall.

Red paced the cabin, too nervous to eat or read. Her kept going back and forth about Belle's idea, but she knew the battle had already been won. She would try Belle's plan because she had to. Because if she was right, Red could finally be free of something that had been hurting her for so long. If she could control the beast, maybe she wouldn't have to _be_ the beast anymore.

(Belle wouldn't be her True Love, but Red didn't deserve love anyway.)

When nightfall hit, she sat in her usual position, cape wrapped tightly around her as she huddled on the stiff bed and waited. The only thing that made this different than any other month was that this time, Red wasn't just waiting for morning. She was waiting for the right moment to transform. Finally, when she knew it must be close to sunrise, she went outside and took off the cloak.

The transformation felt agonizingly slow this time, maybe because she hadn't done it in so long. Red could feel her bones tear through her body, feel her skin turn to fur and see the forest shift as her eyes did. She howled in agony, and then joy as she ran off through the woods.

When she awoke, she found herself in a clearing not far away. All she could remember was the feeling of wind in her fur.

The second night went the same way as the first. On the third night, Red was determined to remember something more of what happened. She needed something good, something hopeful to tell Belle.

 _Come on, just relax,_ she told herself, although come to think of it, she wasn't positive why she thought relaxing would help her remember. Instinct, she decided, and that was all right because wolves were supposed to operate on instinct, weren't they?

Red walked towards the door and was about to step out of the cabin when a loud knock sounded. With some trepidation, she opened the door to the sight of the man who'd hurt Belle at the tavern.

"You must be the wolf then," he said with a toothy grin.

When the sun rose, Red woke up to a partially destroyed cabin and a pile of bones. She remembered everything.

* * *

The minute Red got back, Belle knew that something was wrong. Red looked paler than she'd ever seen her, and was refusing to make eye contact.

"She's worse than usual," Granny said. "Barely said two words to me all morning. Maybe you can talk some sense into her." She stomped off, leaving Red and Belle alone in the cottage.

"What happened?" Belle asked, reaching out to stroke Red's face. Red flinched away.

"Did you send him there?" she demanded, pulling back.

"What?" Belle asked, reeling from the intensity of Red's question. "Send who where?"

"The man, the one from the tavern!" Red yelled. "He showed up last night. Did you send him?"

"Did he hurt you?" Belle asked. Red snorted loudly. "Red, I'm serious. Did he hurt you?" Because if he had… She didn't know what she would do, exactly, but it wouldn't be pleasant. Surely there were ways to torture people who were larger and stronger than yourself. She'd find a way.

"Of course not. I'm the one who did the hurting." Red's voice was bitter, but she looked as though she were holding back tears. "Is that what you're hoping to hear? That I killed him?"

Belle breathed a sigh of relief. "If it means you're okay, yes." The minute she said that she wanted to slap herself. Of course Red wasn't okay.

"Did you send him?" Red asked again, with a gesture that was halfway between crossing her arms and hugging herself. "I spent all morning sobbing and throwing up, so if you sent him you'd better tell me."

"Of course not!" Belle cried. "Red, come on. You know I wouldn't do something like that to you."

"But you knew! You were the only one who knew I was planning to transform this time. You _told_ me to!"

"Because I thought it would be good for you, not because I wanted to use you to _kill_ someone!" This was quite possibly the worst thing Belle had ever experienced. Not the being yelled at, but the helplessness. There was nothing she could possibly say to make this better. All she could do was be there for Red.

If she'd let her.

"Then what was he doing there? Nobody goes that far into the woods, especially not during Wolfstime!"

"I don't know what he was doing there, but I didn't send him!"

"He knew I was the wolf," Red said quietly, sitting down on a chair. Tears started to flow from her eyes. "He said he knew, and I knew he was hunting me, so I—I took off the cloak so he wouldn't be able to kill me. I knew it would mean killing him, but I did it anyway."

Belle knelt by her feet and took her hand. "You had no choice." She was relieved to find that Red did not pull away.

"What if I made it happen?" Red asked tearfully. "What if I did this on purpose?"

"You didn't."

"But I thought about it! That night, when I saw how badly he'd scared you. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to pay."

"That doesn't mean it's your fault."

Red leaned forward and grabbed Belle by the arm. "Don't you know what this is?" she asked, pushing up Belle's sleeve. " _I'm_ the Beast. Not Rumplestiltskin. Me. I'm _dangerous._ Even the forces of True Love know it." Her tears, which had started to subside, returned with renewed force.

"I don't care!" Belle said. "You hear that? I don't _care_ what my soulmark says. I don't care if it's talking about you or Rumplestiltskin or anybody else. _You're_ the one I want to be with. _You're_ the one I love, can't you see that?"

"If you know I'm the Beast, then you know I don't deserve you."

"What if it doesn't mean what you think it does? Have you stopped for even a second to think of all the different ways people use the word Beast?"

"Well, sorry if I don't have as much book knowledge as you, but the Dark One never gave me a library!" Red snapped, pulling her hands back and wrapping them around herself again.

"Red," Belle said soothingly. But Red was far too worked up.

"I killed him," she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "I promise I'd never kill anyone again, but I did."

Belle stood and pulled Red to her feet. "I love you," she said, holding Red as tightly as she dared. Red practically collapsed in her arms, as though her body were too tired to hold itself up anymore. "No matter what you've done, no matter what happens next, I love you."

She held Red until she stopped crying, then half-carried her to her room to sleep.

* * *

Red spent the better part of three days in bed. Belle brought her food and read to her, even getting into bed next to her to hold her while she cried. Mostly, though, she slept. The transformation was exhausting, but it had never felt like this before. Not since Peter.

On the fourth day, Granny came into her room and wouldn't leave until she got up.

"There's a pile of dishes in the washtub as high as my head," she said, in a no-nonsense sort of voice. "You'll help me clean them. After that, you can lie back down and sulk as long as you want, but I expect to see you at the table for dinner tonight. Is that clear?"

"I'm not sulking," Red said.

"Sulking, grieving, whatever it is you're doing, it's not helping. You know what'll help? Living your life." Granny turned to leave the room. "Get dressed. I'll see you in the kitchen in five minutes." The door shut behind her.

Red considered disregarding her grandmother's orders and going back to sleep, but she knew that if she didn't show up in the kitchen in the next five minutes, Granny would just come back. Her body felt heavy as she dragged it out of bed and towards the wardrobe.

A few minutes later, Red was dressed and in the kitchen. Much as she hated to admit it, she felt better in clean clothes. She'd changed the first day back, unwilling to spend a second longer than she had to in the clothes she'd killed someone in, but since then she'd been wearing the same dress for three days.

"You scrub," Granny said brusquely when she approached the washtubs. "I'll rinse. I'm getting too old for this."

"Where's Belle?" Red asked, picking up a dishrag.

"She went out to officially quit her job. Asked to stay with us for a while. I said yes, of course. Somebody needs to look after you when I'm out hunting, and you can't be expected to do it yourself when you're in this state."

"Oh."

"I like her," Granny said as she handed Red a dish to scrub.

"You may have mentioned that a few times," Red said wryly. _I like her too,_ she didn't say.

"That was before you finally uncovered your wrist."

Red almost dropped the plate. When she looked down, she saw that sometime in the last few days, the band must have some off. "You knew it was her," she said. "Didn't you? You kept pushing me towards her."

"I had my suspicions," Granny admitted. After a moment, she added. "I'm glad I was right."

"Even with—what hers says?"

Granny set down the plate she was rinsing. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Red. You can't change what you are. And you'll only make yourself miserable trying. If being considered a beast means you get to have someone like her love you, I'd say it's pretty damn worth it."

"But how do I know that what happened with Peter won't happen again?" Red was alarmed to find that her eyes were welling up again; she'd thought after so many days in bed that she'd cried all she could.

Granny sighed. "What happened before was… partly my own fault. If I had warned you, maybe I could have helped you control it."

"So it _can_ be controlled." _Belle was right._ How had everyone else known before she did?

Granny looked at her. "Judging from the fit you threw the other day, I'd imagine you knew that already."

"I killed someone," Red said, looking down. She blinked hard to stop herself from crying "I remember what it was like—the way he just _broke,_ I—I enjoyed it."

"I know," Granny said. She turned away from the rinse tub and put her arms around Red. They didn't often hug, not anymore, but Red found herself leaning into the embrace. "I remember."

"How do I know?" Red said into her grandmother's shoulder. "How do I know I won't hurt her?"

"You have to trust yourself."

Red nodded shakily as she pulled away. "I know. I know I can't keep fighting myself like this, I know you need me to get it together."

"Have I ever said that?" Granny asked fiercely. "Don't do this for me, whatever you do. Or for her, even. It has to be for you. Goodness knows you deserve it, after all these months of punishing yourself for something that isn't your fault."

"Will you help me?"

"Of course I will. Now, let's get back to work. These dishes won't wash themselves."

When she'd finished helping Granny, Red returned to the room she and Belle had been sharing. Belle must have returned to the cottage without her realizing. She was sitting in the bed reading, but when Red came in she set down the book.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Good. Better, anyway." Red didn't know where to look, so she looked at Belle, at how comfortable and _right_ she looked on her bed.

"I'm glad," Belle said, and Red hadn't realized it was even possible for someone to sound that sincere.

She cleared her throat nervously. "I need your help, though. You were right, about me needing to learn to control the wolf, and according to Granny it's possible. But I don't know how, and I thought since you're reading all the time, you might have found a book that would tell—"

"Red?" Belle said.

"Yes?"

"Come here."

Red sat down on the bed and Belle pulled her into her arms. "Silly girl," Belle said tenderly, pressing a kiss into Red's hair. "Of course I'll help you. Did you even have to ask?"

* * *

 _One Month Later_

Red waited inside the newly repaired cabin. Any minute now, she'd take her cloak off. She was almost shaking from fear, but she knew that no matter what happened, Belle and Granny would help her through it. To remind herself of this, she looked down at her wrist. _Beauty._ There was no question anymore that this was Belle, and that meant that Belle's soulmark referred to her, too.

 _If I love her, I have to embrace the Beast._

With a deep breath she removed the cloak, ready for whatever came next.


End file.
